


wake up empty

by akamine_chan



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2117010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life doesn't always go as planned, and sometimes the people you think you know the best are the ones you know the least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wake up empty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ride_Forever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride_Forever/gifts).



> This was written for ride_4ever, who was kind enough to support me in my fanworks drive by donating. Hope this suits, Ride. <3
> 
> Title from Rumi, beta by Ande, as always.

It was a long drive, almost six hours, so they started early. Ray picked him up in the Riv and Fraser bought donuts and coffee for them before they hit the road.

They took I-57 south, which meandered through empty farmland, dotted with the occasional small town. The fields were winter-browned, and Fraser remembered what it looked like at the height of the summer, green and growing, full of life.

Neither of them ever felt talkative on these trips to visit Ray Kowalski, and the silence wasn't exactly comfortable. It never was.

The Menard Correctional Center allowed Ray two one-hour visits a month from a list of approved visitors, and Ray was kind enough to drive Fraser there for his visit. Fraser tried to give Ray money for gas, because driving the Riv was nowhere near economical, but Ray always waved him off with a grunt.

Ray was in the PCU section of the prison; most prisons isolated former police officers from the general population of prisoners for their own safety. That necessitated more planning when Fraser went to visit. Phone calls to make sure the Protective Custody Unit wasn't in lockdown, and that Ray hadn't lost his visitor privileges due to demerits.

They always stopped at a little diner halfway to the prison for lunch. Fraser often wonders what Ray is thinking of as they sit there and eat their burgers, pick at their fries, drink their coffee and milkshake. 

He'd tried talking to Ray once, at the beginning, and had been rebuffed so strongly that Fraser's still smarting a little from the way Ray had snapped at him.

Fraser is still in shock, two years later, that someone he thought he knew turned out to be someone he didn't know at all. It was the worst kind of betrayal; he'd opened himself up to Ray, shared his most private thoughts with him, had fallen in love with him—

That day was etched in Fraser's memory like acid, the call from Welsh, the cab ride down to the station, and seeing Ray behind the glass of the interrogation room. He was calm, a little bloodsplattered, and silent. Ray hadn't asked for a lawyer, but he refused to speak, wouldn't say a word. Just wrote out a confession and signed it with a scrawl.

"Victoria," Welsh had said, when Ray arrived. "She approached Kowalski," he gestured with his chin to the one way mirror, "and tried to blackmail him. Said she would destroy the Corporal's career, threatened Vecchio and his family. Told Kowalski where to meet her. And she trusted that he would do what she said."

Victoria had never met Ray Kowalski, had no idea how protective he could be of those he loved.

Ray finished up his coffee and tossed some bills on the table. "Ready?" 

"Yes," Fraser murmured. He rubbed at his eyebrow after the climbed into the passenger seat of the Riv, trying to distract himself from the constant refrain of _why?_ that echoed through his head.

The rest of the drive was uneventful. 

Ray wouldn't come into the prison with Fraser, said something about not wanting to risk being recognized. He waited in the parking lot, flipping through the Chicago Tribune, settling in with the sports page while Fraser went in. 

It always took a while—Fraser had to sign in, wait to be cleared and searched before being taken to the PCU visitor's room. Ray was already there, slouched in a bare wooden chair on the far side of a small table, hands cuffed together. The room was chilly, and Fraser wondered if Ray was staying warm.

Fraser paused a moment to take him in; he was skinnier than ever, eyes shadowed and bruised. His blue jumpsuit was baggy, several sizes too large and his shoulders were hunched under the rough fabric. He was unshaven and his hair was buzzed short. He barely had any resemblance to the Ray Kowalski Fraser had once known. "Hello, Ray."

Ray didn't respond but Fraser hadn't expected him to. As far as Fraser knew, Ray hadn't spoken a word since the day he'd killed Victoria. He missed hearing Ray's voice, the words fast and quick with dropped letters and nasally vowels. Missed his quicksilver grin and his infectious laugh. Missed _him_.

Ray had been lucky; Stella had recused herself from the District Attorney's office and appointed herself his legal counsel. Stella Vecchio was an excellent lawyer and she convinced the jury that Ray had been emotionally compromised, that the shooting had been an act of passion, not planning. Manslaughter, not murder. 

Stella had painted a picture of Ray and Fraser's life, two men in love in an unaccepting world, concealing it from their friends and family. Best friends. She showed the jury glimpses of their perfectly domestic little life together, and made it clear that Ray was in love, and would do anything to keep Fraser safe. The jury took no time at all to return a guilty verdict on the charge of manslaughter. 

Ray had been sentenced to ten years, with the possibility of parole after serving seven. 

The trial had outed both of them and for Ray, it was a moot point, because he was never going to be a police officer again. It had been slightly more problematic for Fraser, but the Inspector had a strict don't ask, don't tell policy. The _new_ Inspector, of course, since Inspector Thatcher had disappeared into the dark world of the intelligence community.

"Francesca wanted me to pass on her greetings, as did the Lieutenant," Fraser started, and then segued into telling Ray the story about the illegal haggis smuggling ring that had appeared in Chicago. Ray didn't acknowledge Fraser at all, but Fraser was undeterred. Someday, Ray would look at him again, _see_ him, and things would be okay.

-fin-


End file.
